


Runaway, Run Home

by TommysIdiosyncrasy



Series: It's A Long Walk Home, Kid [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Avengers would kill for Spider Son, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kid Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Not Canon Compliant, Precious Peter Parker, Protected Steve Rogers, The Avengers team is soft for Peter, im not sorry, light cuddling, not really shown but peter has the entire team wrapped around his little finger in one second flat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TommysIdiosyncrasy/pseuds/TommysIdiosyncrasy
Summary: Peter's parents die in a plane crash.Peter runs away from home.Peter meets a stranger.





	Runaway, Run Home

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place right after Peter's parents die, but he's eight years old instead

Warm breath ghosted over cold fingers, waxy skin shining in the streetlights.

It was almost midnight and Peter still hadn’t been able to catch any sleep. He was shivering and achy and rather miserable, but he was too nervous to lie down and close his heavy eyes.

His eyelids hurt, but he couldn’t do much about that at the moment. It’d been only a day since he’d snuck away from his Auntie and Uncle’s house, but he was already lost and scared.

It was hard, going to bed with a family and waking up to being an orphan. Uncle Ben had walked in with a grim face and soft words, but Peter hadn’t wanted to hear anymore. He wasn’t stupid; he was old enough to know why momma and daddy won’t be coming home.

When they’d gone to their room to speak in hushed tones together, Peter couldn’t stay there. His parents had left him behind forever, an empty feeling filling his chest as he’d reached up on his tiptoes to flick the lock open.

A few hours later of wondering past strangers and keeping his head down, Peter had wanted to return. He didn’t want his Auntie and Uncle to be so mad they left him too, but he suddenly turned back and realized he had no clue where he was.

He knew he’d messed up, Peter would be in big trouble for this, but he was suddenly too panicked to worry about the consequences. Running as fast as his little legs could take him, he’d desperately tried to retrace his steps to no avail.

Now, all he could do was sit and cry on the sidewalk.

Footsteps made him freeze, turning his teary face away from his arms to see a tall figure standing above him. He swallowed nervously, unable to see their face from the shadows the streetlight cast.

“Hello young man,” the stranger said. “where are your mommy and daddy?” Peter said nothing in reply. “You poor thing. Come along, I’ll help you find them.” The man offered his hand before Peter could tell him he didn’t have a mom or dad anymore. Peter shuffled after the man.

They walked for a long time, long enough where Peter wanted to whine. Instead, he chewed on the drawstring on his hood and worried that he’d never find his way back to his Auntie and Uncle.

It was only about fifteen minutes of walking when the man turned off the street and walked up the steps of an apartment building, pulling Peter with him.

Confusion and anxiety crept into his stomach as the man knocked on the front door, his hand uncomfortably clammy around Peter’s.

“Mister, this isn’t where my-”

“Shut up.” he interrupted. Peter’s eyes widened, but he put his head down despite the fear filling his chest.

The door swung open, dim light spilling across the doorstep. Another man stood there, scraggly beard and giant arms blocking the doorway.

“You’re late.” the man said gruffly.

“Gotta bit sidetracked, cut me some slack.” Peter was getting antsy. He looked down at his faded sneakers, tugging at the hem of his jacket nervously. The man holding his hand pushed past the larger stranger and dragged Peter inside.

The door slammed shut behind him, causing him to jump, but the man continued to leading him in the dingy home with the bearded guy following him.

“You know boss doesn’t enjoy entertaining your games.” the man warned, voice low in the quiet hallway. “Told you he don’t like you bringing your toys into the house.”

Peter was looking between the two slowly, one hand still twisting his jacket.

“Mister, I thought you said you’d-”

“I mean it kid,” the man turned a dark eye on him. “Shut up.”

Peter goes silent, feeling petrified.

He’s lead up a flight or two of stares and ushered the child in hastily.

“Sit down and be quiet.” he instructed, pointing to a dirty-looking bed. “I’ll be back later.”

Peter plopped down on the bed obediently and folded his hands in his lap politely, just like his parents had taught him. He looked up at the man nervously, hoping to not get that scary look again.

He left without a backwards glance.

Peter had the powerful urge to cry.

 

 

It was about a day later, Peter having fallen asleep sitting up about two hours after the man left, when the sound of the door opening made him jerk awake.

He realized he was not in his own bed, not even the guest bed at his aunt and uncle’s place. Peter sat up straight, feeling slightly stiff from the odd sleep position, seeing the man walk into the room and slam it close.

He looked tired, like Uncle Ben after a hard shift at the police station. A scruffy shadow spread across his jaw, his hands rubbing against it to make a soft sawing noise.

Peter waited quietly for him to talk. He hoped he’d see his Uncle Ben again.

The man cast Peter a hard look, the child not understanding his expression, before he stalked off to the bathroom. Peter slumped in relief when he left the man’s presence sent him on edge and made his tummy turn.

The sound of a shower turning on had Peter slipping off the side of the bed and wandering around the room for a minute. He touched nothing, too tense for curiosity.

His eyes drifted over to the nightstand, his little feet trotting towards it. Before he could open it, however, a large hand clamps down on his wrist and wrenches him away. Peter lets out a cry of surprise, looking up to see the stranger standing over him.

“I-I’m sorry,” Peter babbles. “I didn’t mean to.”

The man doesn’t listen, instead hauling the boy by the arm back to the bed and throwing him on top of covers. His lips are curl into a snarl, Peter’s whole body vibrating with fear.

“Brat.” he growled.

Peter opened his mouth to scream, but the man clamped a hand down over his mouth. Sweat gathered under his armpits and along his temples, the man towering over Peter’s quivering body.

The other hand not holding him down yanked the zipper on Peter’s jacket down. Peter’s arms got tangled but a dangerous snarl deep in the man’s chest made his arms go pliant and his arms slipped out after a moment.

The man’s hands continued to move, tugging here and there on Peter’s cloths and the boy did not understand what was happening, his brain seeming to short-circuit as he continued to not struggle. A tiny squeak of surprise left his lips as a large hand moved under his shirt.

The door burst open and for a moment, there was silence as the man looked up at the disturbance. Someone threw the man off Peter’s body. He hit the ground with a dull thump.

The boy dove off the bed and crawled underneath as fast as his little legs could. Curling up in the corner, Peter pressed his fist into his mouth to stop the whimpering in his throat.

It was loud, voices shouting and feet scuffling over the wood floor. Tears clouded Peter’s vision as he continued to hide.

Peter stilled, the room quieting as footsteps roamed around the bed. Fear paralyzed him, his eyes wide as he watched a pair of dirty boots come into view.

A new stranger leaned down to peer at Peter’s crying face. The man’s face crumpled as their eyes met.

“Hey there, kiddo.” he murmured, a soft smile on his face. “Sorry about the scare, but that bad man’s gone. The heroes are here.” Peter cautiously scooted forwards, getting a better look at the man’s face.

“You’re Captain America.” he whispered in awe. The man’s face spread into a grin, his blue eyes warm.

“What do you say about getting out of here, huh?” he asked. Peter nodded quickly and clambered out from his hiding spot. He stared up in awe at the man, seemingly a giant. Peter turned to see another two people in the room, unconsciously shrinking into hero’s side when he spotted them. He patted the boy’s shoulders reassuringly and strode over to the others. “This is Clint and Natasha, or Hawkeye and Black Widow.”

Peter’s eyes lit up, a smile overtaking his face.

“Wow.” he breathed. The Avenger returned to Peter’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s your name, son?”

“I’m Peter Parker.” he replied, his heart suddenly sinking. He looked up with teary eyes. “Can you bring me back to my Auntie and Uncle?” Steve gave a sad smile.

“Of course, son.”

Peter stooped to snatch his jacket off the floor and let Earth’s mightiest heroes usher him out before he could see the bloodied mess of a man they left behind.

  
  


The next morning, Steve woke a sleeping Peter in Clint’s lap, he’d located his relatives in the night. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked up drowsily, the soldier’s heart melting at the sight.

“Ready to go home, Pete?” he nodded, reaching his arms out lazily for the man. Steve gladly swung Peter up into his arms, finally taking the dozing boy back home.  

**Author's Note:**

> i have no explanation for myself. this started really soft and fluffy but then i deleted it and this was born. im not writing as much as i probably should be but shut up this was fun to write. i am majorly soft for platonic Peter love.


End file.
